The Emptiness is Just a Lesson in Canvases

Hi. Yeah, I know it’s been a while since I’ve talked to you. I know that it’s my fault for creating the gap that separated us. For so long I’ve wanted and tried and done my best to blame you for everything. I felt so utterly lost and bewildered by the world as it changed around me so rapidly and ever quicker. Sitting here some years gone by, the words struggle to escape my mind. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. My soul is as worn as the soles where my toes have torn through the socks. My mind reels like a spool of fishing line, unwinding as the bait got hooked and pulled beneath the surface.

I use these fancy words to avoid having to confront the lump in my throat, the race in my chest, the flood in my eyes. Avoiding accepting you’ve left, and that part of my life has past… leaves me breathless and stuttering my words. I hide behind the prose as if it will protect me from the loss I cannot undo. You left a scar that has never stopped hurting. The wound may have healed and closed, but the pain is evermore. Years have passed and I realized a few days ago I no longer remember the sound of your voice. It tears my heart until my eyes fill with tears.

I got myself into therapy with a proper therapist again. I started drawing some amazing artwork. I started being more honest with the people I love. I do a lot of apologizing and explaining myself when I feel like exploding from emotions. I’ve learned how much my own choices have brought about my current life. There’s so much I want to tell you, but I can’t. I could call, but I don’t think you would answer.

I’m sitting here at my desk doing my best to not break down in tears. But at this point, I feel like leaving work to write this. It has sat in my chest and throat for so fucking long already. I’ve wanted to vent this out for months. Unfortunately, isolation and such a far move removed any of my comfort zones and safety nets.

One tear down. I need to stop writing this but I’m tired of it staying inside.